a different kind of battle scar
by who-are-you-silas
Summary: Cristina and Owen


Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Owen held his breath as his heart rate increased. She could drive him crazy with a casual glance; he'd never experienced such lust. He was in the army; he should have better self control.

When he walks into Joe's she is the first thing he sees, his eyes are magnetic to her. He tries to be nonchalant as he chooses the barstool conveniently located next to hers and orders them both drinks, brushing his hand against her arm.

She gets chills from the graze of his hand across her skin, and shakes them off as takes in his scent. What is she doing? She can't have another relationship with a superior. She is a mess, completely damaged and he is shattered. Together they are smoldering…No, focus, a mistake. Stupid. Irresistible.

He hasn't said a word since he got his drink. His eyes slide over to take a peek at her expression. She looks contemplative, and totally hot. Cristina catches him looking at her and he quickly averts his eyes, a blush creeping up his neck.

Is he blushing? There is nothing hotter than a man who blushes. She can't suppress a smile and chooses not to. She reaches down and runs her hand down his thigh to his knee, lightly squeezing it, before leaving her hand there to rest and drive him crazy.

His breath catches in his throat and he swallows the rest of his drink. One shared look and he's dragging her out the door and towards her apartment. They makeout the whole way there, tripping over eachother. They don't care who sees anymore, they just want to be with eachother.

Their shirts are off as soon as they are through the door and they settle on the couch. Owen runs his hands down her smooth skin until he hits a scar. The scar is small and silvery, probably from years ago. It looks like a surgery scar. It isn't the "battle scar" he remembers sewing up. He feels her involuntarily jerk away when he rubs his fingers against it and his curiosity gets the better of him.

"What's this? Another icicle impalement?" his voice is husky and deep, she can hear his attempt to put humor into the statement as to cover his concern.

"I really don't want to talk about this right now." Seriously, they are half naked and horizontal and he chooses now to become Mr. Chatty? She wiggles out from under him and stands up looking for her shirt. Truth is the timing didn't matter. She doesn't ever want to talk about how she got this scar. It was the scar from her ectopic pregnancy.

"I'm kidding!" He gently laughs, trying to pull her into his lap and reverse the freak-out he sent her into.

"Can we just agree not to talk about certain things?" She asked with a sigh, settling back into his lap.

"But I don't know what it is we aren't talking about, so how will I know if I accidentally reference it?" He was trying to lighten the mood, and hopefully get back to the making out. The last thing he wanted tonight when he brought her back here was to get into an argument.

"When I get mad." The serious look on her face when she said this make him bust out laughing.

"Seriously, that is all you're going to give me?"

"Hey, I don't pressure you about your past, you don't get to pressure me about mine."

Silence hung in the air as they exchanged a look. Okay, now he got it. He didn't just stumble upon a scar from her falling of a bike, this was way more serious then he could have imagined. So, he dropped it, and got back to making her squirm. Just as he started to unbutton her jeans, the door came crashing open.

Callie stood there with her mouth open in shock as Cristina and Owen sprung apart.

He was mildly stalking her, how could he have not known she shared an apartment with Callie Torres!?

"Uh..we'll move into my room." Cristina awkwardly let out, dragging Owen to his feet and shoving him towards her bedroom door.

"Yeah, uh, that would be good. I'm going to uh, go for a walk!" Callie quickly exited the apartment but not before exclaiming "I want details when I get back missy!"

Cristina shoved Owen down on the bed, before checking her roommate had left. Closing her door, she gave him an apologetic smile.

"Maybe I should just leave…"

"No! She is already gone and I don't want to wait any longer. Victorian romances and chaste looks are hot and all, but sex is so much more satisfying."

"You are the perfect woman."

"I know."


End file.
